


Try

by Azazel



Series: If Wishes Were Wings (Then Maybe We Could Fly Away) [6]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azazel/pseuds/Azazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Communication is a learned skill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try

Six months with no word. Six months of Gotham without Bruce. Six months of waiting, sometimes hoping, but never really daring to believe he could still be alive somewhere in the world. And then one day there he is, as if nothing changed. 

Dick goes back to being Nightwing. 

Damian remains Robin.

And Tim is still in the wind, despite having found and convinced Bruce to return. Jason is on better terms with the other Bats by then but if they have heard anything about the absent ex-Robin they are keeping it to themselves. Even Bruce, the last of them to see Tim, isn’t saying a word about where he might be or what he might be doing. Jason can tell Bruce was surprised by Damian’s initiation into Robin, but he can also tell Bruce was pleased. So pleased, in fact, he hasn’t said a word about how it went down. Though, he may not care to share with Jason on that level. But the pride in his eyes when he looks at his _real_ son wearing the uniform is unmistakable. 

Two months after Bruce’s return to Gotham, and the Bat, finds Jason staking out the penthouse of an up-and-coming drug pusher from the rooftop across the street. He has been splayed on his stomach staring through a spotting scope for four hours in the rain only to find the new player is not coming home. Scowling through the lens one last time he shoves the scope back into its case and shuffles onto his knees. When he reaches to close the case a tiny movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention. He snaps the latches and stands, drawing one of his pistols in a single smooth motion. 

“Hello, Hood.” The voice comes from a shadow slowly detaching itself from the surrounding darkness. Jason twitches, curling his hand around the grip of his gun tightly. Without his helmet Jason cannot quite mask his shock completely when Tim steps into the meager light, his hands raised just outside his cape as if to show he isn’t armed. Jason takes a step back then catches himself. 

His voice is harsh, gravelly, when he says, “Red? When did you get back? What are you doing here?”

Tim lowers his hands beneath his cape again before answering, “Two weeks ago and I came to talk to you. I thought invading your home again might be in poor taste.”

Jason scoffs, “So you creep up on me instead. Good way to catch a bullet. How long were you standing there anyway?”

With the white-outs covering Tim’s eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he is looking at but Jason can feel the stare burning a hole in his chest. Tim’s mouth barely moves, “About thirty minutes.”

Stuffing his gun back into the holster Jason stoops to pick up the black case, grumbling, “Fuck, I need to sleep.”

Tim takes a step toward him, coming within arm’s reach, but stops short of actually touching him. There is something about him now, something different, that Jason can’t quite put his finger on. The way he moves isn’t the same as it was the last time they saw one another. There is a certain liquid quality to the motions that Jason only remembers seeing in the most skilled assassins during his time with The League of Shadows. But that can’t be right. Tim isn’t an assassin. Forcing himself to hold his ground Jason squints at Tim through the lenses of his own Domino, his tone wary when he asks, “Where were you?” 

For the first time Tim looks away, glancing down and to Jason’s left, before stating, “Training. After I found Bruce and he agreed to come back to Gotham I stayed behind in Europe.”

Jason’s eyes go wide behind his mask. “You trained with The League?” Though it is a question it seems rhetorical. 

Tim shakes his head once, “Lady Shiva. I needed to find a center. My judgement was clouded and she helped me restore clarity.”

“Oh, I’m sure she did. And now you and your clear head are back stalking me,” Jason’s fingers itch to hold something more dangerous than the hard plastic case. 

“Ja- Hood, we need to talk.”

Jason turns and hauls the strap of the case over his shoulder, settling the thick plastic against the small of his back. He moves to the far edge of the roof as quickly as he can without actually running. Before he even registers the movement Tim is beside him, grabbing his elbow. Jason spins and throws a heavy punch that Tim dodges easily. 

“Please, Hood. What happened before I left-”

“Will _never_ happen again,” Jason growls. Gathering a handful of Tim’s cape in each fist Jason shakes him once, hard. Tim slides one foot back for leverage to steady himself but his shoulders sag just a tiny bit beneath his cape. Reaching up slowly he pushes his cowl off of his face. Jason flinches when Tim looks up at him with no mask, his expression somber. If Jason was feeling poetic he might even say it looks resigned.

Tim’s voice is small but steady, “I know. I wanted to apologize.”

Jason blinks rapidly, eyes searching Tim’s face for some hint of what’ s really going on because for the life of him he doesn’t get the joke of Tim apologizing for being assaulted. Releasing Tim’s cape like it shocked him Jason steps back and Tim doesn’t follow.

“You were right and what I did was inexcusable. You are everything I have ever wanted, from the time I was a child that had no idea what wanting was and I used you. I manipulated you. I pushed until you gave me what I wanted. You didn’t deserve that,” Tim is nearly whispering by the end of his confession.

Jason clenches his fists to keep from shaking Tim again. Grinding his teeth, he crowds close to Tim, forcing his replacement to look up in order to maintain eye contact. When Jason speaks his words are clipped, “You have been my punching bag from the first time we met. I’ve come close to killing you. If you want that you’re more fucked up than I thought, Babybird.”

Tim’s smirk is wry and so is his voice when he says, “I’m more fucked up than a lot of people think. But I don’t hear anyone accusing you of being all that stable, either.”

The sound Jason makes is somewhere between a laugh and snort. Before he can second guess himself he plants his hands on either side of Tim’s face, leaning down to slant their mouths together. Tim shivers against him, arms winding around Jason’s waist as he groans into the kiss. 

Jason’s breathing is ragged when he pulls back a fraction of an inch to murmur against Tim’s lips, “So fucked up.”

Tim hums, his eyes glittering in Gotham’s light, and darts his tongue out to touch Jason’s bottom lip, “We really are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by the P!nk song of the same name, specifically the lyrics
> 
> “Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame  
> Where there is a flame someone’s bound to get burned  
> Just because it burns doesn’t mean you’re gonna die  
> You gotta get up and try, try, try”


End file.
